I swear we're not this rural.

But it's fun to pretend.

We went to the Pennsylvania Farm Show last weekend, an annual event so important to the state that the facility that houses it is called, year-round, the Farm Show Complex. This probably amuses you folks from out of town.

Prior to this trip, I had never been to the Farm Show in my life. I mean, why would I. But we thought Clark would get a kick out of it. Lots of animals, oddball vendor stands, highly specified local businesses handing you pens... why not.

The Complex is a sprawling interior mess of warehouses and corridors that not even Janet Reno could adequately siege. There are multiple indoor rodeo stadiums; during our visit one was conducting a tractor pull and the other had a calf roping exhibition. You'd have to go pretty far to find topics of less interest to me, but, as I've said before, it is always nice to be around people who genuinely like where they are. I'm sure the oldsters learning about metal roofing while they munch on a fried cheese cube would be similarly lost at E3 or a gaming con.

The Farm Show's signature thing is the butter sculpture, a ridiculous weenie that resides in the center of it all like the very Sphinx. This year's sculpture theme was kids and the future or some shit.

At some point, Clark announced that he thought a cowboy hat would be a fine souvenir, and it was impossible to ignore such a genteel request. He wore the hat throughout the rest of our trip, and even during the Target stop afterward. It's a nice hat.

BONUS PIC:

Anybody who would choose to sit around a giant circle of dirt is clearly not my people.